


Interlude

by sigridthehaughty



Series: Stranded [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-31
Updated: 2011-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:37:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigridthehaughty/pseuds/sigridthehaughty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Stranded universe PWP. Yeah, so it's a little schmoopy. And do I know where this fits in the Stranded arc? Nope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Original story notes, circa 1999:
> 
> Synopsis: Tom and Tuvok explore their bond. Yeah, that's what they're doing...
> 
> Disclaimer: All things Trek are not mine. They belong to Paramount. I am just borrowing a few things (specifically Tom and Tuvok) for the day, with grateful thanks. Note that the story is mine, for what it's worth. Thanks: To Carolyn, for her encouragement. To VSP. And again, to Lianne, Karen, and Raku for writing such excellent Tu/P.
> 
> Originally posted to ASCEM 27 August, 1999. ASCEM can also be accessed at alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated

"Tuvok, what are you _doing_?"

When I had returned home to our quarters after shift, Tuvok simply removed my clothes and parked me on the bed. And then he came after me with an artist's paintbrush and a cup full of body paint. Metallic gold body paint.

Gods above, I never expected a Vulcan to have an affinity for this sort of thing. But here's my mate, studiously drawing little gold circles all over my body.

My question: why circles?

It's kind of tickly, and a bit chilly too, because he blows on the paint to dry it. But I'm very much looking forward to part two of this little scenario. Occasionally he gives me a preview and licks a circle off -- his tongue rasps against my skin deliciously -- and then he returns to his task.

I am very amused and _very_ aroused...

~ Love, I look like I'd broken out in some odd sort of rash. ~

And I do... Chicken pox maybe? I seem to remember that ancient childhood disease caused spotting.

~ Gold stars, t'hy'la. ~

And suddenly I have a lump in my throat...

\--::--

It was an exercise in working towards completing our bond. Since I was so determined not to share the bad stuff, I had to find good stuff to share. And I'd remembered my pre-school teacher.

Looking back, I think that he must have guessed that something was not quite right in the homelife of young Tom Paris, and he tried to make up for it.

Gold stars. I think I got gold stars for just about anything I did.

Strange to think that I'd almost forgotten about Mr. MacKinnon.

\--::--

So here I am lying here having my body covered with hundreds of tiny spheres. Tuvok's figured out that I get things better when there's physical contact involved and he'll go a long way to prove a point.

I brush my hand against Tuvok's cheek. ~ Stars have points. These are little suns. ~

~ By definition, a star is a sun -- a spherical concentrations of interstellar gas from which energy emanates as a result of the nuclear fusion of hydrogen atoms. ~

He explains this in a very serious manner.

I pinch the tip of his nose.

~ Suns, ~ I reply ~ are stars specific to a planetary system. And, love, stars, when seen through earth's atmosphere, appear to twinkle. So we humans draw them like this. ~ I took the brush from his hand and drew a five-pointed star on his shoulder.

Hmmm. His skin provides better contrast for the gold paint than does mine. This could be fun...

Leaning forward I lap the paint up before it can dry. Faintly sweet. But his skin is far more delicious.

I take the brush and begin to paint more stars, erasing them with my mouth as I go.

~ You interrupted me before I had completed my task, lieutenant. ~

~ You know what a kick I get out of being insubordinate, commander ~ And I bite him.

I feel his cock respond to that, even as he arches an eyebrow at me. I trace it with the tip of the brush. And then the other one. Gold eyebrows. It looks good on him. Kind of exotic.

~ Indeed. ~ I say for him. Then I lean forward and follow the arch of his brow with my tongue.

And then he gets up from the bed and heads for the replicator.

And now he's coming back again with another brush and a container of... melted chocolate?

~ Mmm. Chocolate. ~

I dip my finger in and taste.

And nearly gag.

"Geez, Tuvok, how about a little sweetener in this?"

~ It is for me. I think the color will provide effective contrast against your skin, and I need not fear that you will usurp it as I prefer chocolate unsweetened. ~

My lips twitch. I don't know why I'm still surprised when Tuvok manages to surprise me, but I am.

I hear him reviewing that thought and then giving up on it with the mental equivalent of a shrug.

And then he starts to paint me again. Little chocolate-brown five-pointed stars. They do show up better against my skin.

Meanwhile, I'm being a little more free form in my approach. Swirls and dashes and curlicues. The brush is too fiddly, so I switch to my fingers. I get to touch him that way. And I'm choosing to 'clean up' as I go. Meanwhile he's being slow and methodical and making sure that the stars and spheres are evenly dispersed all over my body.

This is going to take forever.

I shift to try and reach for his navel.

~ Hold still. ~

~ But I... ~

~ Hold _still_ t'hy'la. ~

So I do.

And he paints, and paints, and paints... And then, finally, he's done. He rises to his knees and looks me over. I shiver in anticipation.

He's a panther, stalking me.

I send him that image. And then he's slowly tonguing my forehead, my eyelids, my cheeks... I try and get my lips on his, but he's not allowing it yet.

So, it's going to be one of those nights. I lie back, intending to enjoy the ride.

And then he starts up with the images as he moves slowly down my body, licking and nibbling as he goes. Slowly...

An image: He's watching me slide in and out of him.

An image: I'm on my hands and knees and he's mounting me from behind.

An image: My mouth on his cock, swallowing him.

I can taste him. I can taste him on my tongue and suddenly I want him so badly it hurts.

And I can feel how it feels. All of it. I can feel him in me. I can feel me in him. Like it's happening right now...

Perspiration begins to bead on my body. To him I taste of bitter chocolate and sweet paint and salty sweat.

~ You're ruining my work... ~

"Cause and effect," I gasp.

~ True. ~

But he likes that answer so he takes pity and stops assaulting me with those images. Instead he begins to suckle on one of my balls. The other gets attention from his long clever fingers. Fingers I want inside me. I send that image to him and he raises a hand to my mouth. I pull those fingers in, moistening them. It seems like an interminable wait before they're circling my anus, teasing...

"Please."

I arch to that finger as his mouth travels up the length of my cock. Tongue swirling, lips sucking. And when he reaches the head, he cleans the pre-come from it and teases the slit. And then he licks up what leaks out in response to such treatment. And then he's working his way back down again.

And oh, those fingers. Stretching and...

"Gods yes... yes... yes..."

Hitting that sweet spot.

So sweet.

I love this. Love having his mouth on me and his fingers in me. Knowing that soon I'll come and then it will be his dick in me and his hands on me; my hands helping him stroke. And we'll fuck. We'll fuck and we'll fuck and we'll fuck...

Oh YES...

My hips start pumping, up into his mouth, back against his hand. I try and control it, draw it out, and he helps me. Helps me make it mind-numbingly earth-shatteringly oh-so-fucking good.

The tingle has started. The soles of my feet. My toes twitch and my dick twitches. I get tingles behind my shoulder blades and then they're rippling down my chest, down my spine, up my legs till they all converge and...

No control whatsoever now. Just grunts and shakes and thrashes and...

"TUVOK!"

\--::--

I'm still twitching in the aftermath, caught between two conflicting desires. One is to pull him up against me and hold him and feel his heat pressed all along the length of my body. The other is to feel him inside me. Filling me.

But somewhere in between is good too. He's got his head pillowed on my inner thigh and he's licking me clean. Fastidiously. Like a cat. And his fingers are still inside me and it feels good.

Connected. I like being connected.

I send him that thought.

And then he offers me up an image of him in me, looking down into my eyes as I come again. It's a question more than a statement of intent or an attempt to arouse. We're both feeling a bit of post-coital bliss -- bliss for me, satisfaction for him -- and I know it would be okay if we just curled up and drifted off.

But I want him in me. Christ, I'd keep him in me all day long if I could.

So he reaches for the lube and starts greasing me up. And then coating his own erection. If I wasn't hard already, I would be, from watching him. What remains of the gold paint I'd decorated him with is starting to smear and for a second I consider reversing our positions and giving him a taste of his own medicine.

But he holds my gaze and I draw my knees up as he positions himself. And then he pulls me up on his thighs, wraps my legs around his waist, and slides in with a smooth long stroke. Then small movements. Just pulses. His fingers caress my thighs in a circular motion, working their way down to my groin and then up my abdomen. One hand settles on a nipple and tugs and rolls it gently, the other drifts back down to rest on my hip.

A slight increase in tempo. Just barely noticeable.

I'm going to be screaming by the time he's through with me.

He doesn't break eye contact with me. He insists on letting the sensations and feelings flow back and forth between us. Sometimes, when we're having sex, I don't know where I end and he begins but now the sensations are discrete.

This is how it feels to him when he's in me.

This is how it feels to have him in me.

I feel them both, but they're individual, distinct. I don't know which sensation gives me greater pleasure. Or greater satisfaction. Or whether the best part of it all is being able to share it all with him both physically and through our mental link.

I'm wanting more, now. Wanting more of him, wanting more of his strength driving into me. I raise a hand above my head and push against the bedstead. I rock against him, meeting his every stroke. And he begins to move faster, the pulses of pleasure quivering throughout my body quickening as he does.

His hand comes to caress my erection, pumping in time. I grab my cock and hold on to the base... I'm close and I don't want this to end yet. Just on general principle, and also because the longer it lasts, the better it feels...

My breathing is getting harsher, and he's starting to pant, just slightly. His eyes are closed, head tipped back and he is the most beautiful sight in the world. He's Tuvok, and he's mine.

His eyes snap back to mine at that thought and he changes the rhythm. Harder, longer strokes which grind against my prostate. It would almost be cruel if it wasn't so intensely pleasurable. I'm so ready to come it almost hurts, but I want it to last just a little bit longer.

I'm going out of my mind...

Just a little more. Just a little...

And then there's nothing I can do anymore and I come and come and come... He's right behind me, pushed over the edge by the sensation of the muscles in my ass clenched around his cock.

It takes me a moment to get my breath back, but I grin up at him. His response is a gentle caress on my cheek. And then, my efficient Vulcan, he grabs towel he'd placed conveniently placed within reach before the evenings' entertainment began and mops my chest and stomach.

Slowly he slides out of me and I sigh at the loss. And then he leans forward to lie on top of me, his lips caressing mine...

His warm body blankets my own and I sigh again, this time with contentment.

~ Tuvok, love. ~

~ Ashayem ~

And we sleep...  
\--::--

~ Finis ~


End file.
